


And Every Abrasion

by DoreyG



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Canon typical darkness, Cunnilingus, Desk Sex, F/F, Genderswap, I've always wanted to use that as a tag, Mid-Canon, Office Sex, Pathetic fallacy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-05 22:51:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1099514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoreyG/pseuds/DoreyG
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The rain whirls itself into a frenzy outside and throws itself violently against the window. Blow after blow after blow, it strikes the glass like the direst insults have been exchanged and it has the thirst for <i>blood</i>. Faceless and nameless, the weather can be just as vindictive as the most vicious murderer when riled.</p>
<p>…But inside she is safe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Every Abrasion

The rain whirls itself into a frenzy outside and throws itself violently against the window. Blow after blow after blow, it strikes the glass like the direst insults have been exchanged and it has the thirst for _blood_. Faceless and nameless, the weather can be just as vindictive as the most vicious murderer when riled.

…But inside she is safe.

She sits on Hanna’s desk, legs spread and head tilted back. Her curly brown hair is loose from her usual careless ponytail, flows mostly down her back and a little into her eyes. Her fingers are clawed, digging into old oak to try and draw some sort of strength. The wood is cool against her skin, calm – she shifts, and she feels only smoothness.

Inside she is safe.

Hanna kneels between her thighs, head bent and body a picture of concentration. Her ash blonde hair is still in its sophisticated updo, but clings on only barely. Her hands map the tender arena of her thighs, long fingers delicately probing soft flesh until she’s gasping with the sensation. Her mouth is hot, as hot as sin and fire and the blood that flows from the artery when it’s cut – she moves, and sparks of pleasure race up her spine.

Inside she is safe.

She’s naked from the waist down, shoes and socks and jeans and underwear removed and neatly folded in a pile at Hanna’s side. She’d be almost fully naked if not for her plain bra, her plaid shirt gapes open to reveal her stomach and covered breasts. She has the faint feeling that this is a bad idea, but ignores the voice in the back of her head – simply cants her hips, gives herself over to the feeling of Hanna’s mouth like there’s nothing else in the world.

Inside she is safe.

She’s not quite sure where this started, but then it’s usually considered terribly bad manners to try to remember the start of a dream. Her world has narrowed to what is important, as it tends to do in the middle of all good sex. She takes account of only a few sensations – the wood of the desk, the wet heat of Hanna’s mouth, the mindless pleasure that ripples through her and sighs all her problems away.

Inside she is safe.

She spreads her thighs a little and Hanna dives in deeper. She digs her fingers into the desk and Hanna goes harder. She lets a breathless whimper trickle out of her throat and Hanna rewards her with several flicks of the tongue that feel like _heaven_. Her skin is on fire, her brain is not far behind. This is completion, this is glory, this is _this_. She feels perfect here, like nothing can harm her – the noise has fallen away, here there is only glorious silence and the glide of Hanna’s tongue.

Inside she is safe.

She is close now, trembling with it. Her body feels on a string, a gloriously hot string that flays the inside of her and takes away all the bad. Her breath comes in gasps. Her muscles move in shudders. Her eyes are shut and she can see only the red of fire behind them. She can’t move properly, she can’t breathe, she can’t _think_. She only knows one thing, and it is narrowing. Soon she will have nothing, _nothing_ , except the beautifully dark silence in her head.

Inside she is safe.

And she _comes_.

Inside she is _safe_ -

And her eyes fall open, and she looks down to where Hanna is peering up from between her thighs. Mouth closed, body still, face… Showing all the world in it, all the sharp and clamouring world of blood and murder and secrets that can cut like a knife. All the secrets that Hanna keeps, locked away behind her eyes and hair and casual sophistication for to broadcast the truth would be an act akin to suicide.

But inside she is safe.

Her thighs tremble, her breath catches, Hanna continues to look up with those secret dark eyes and that secret heavy half-smile curving her lips.

…Isn’t she?


End file.
